


Driftwood

by Butterfrogmantis



Category: Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends
Genre: I know it's about new years eve, I'm not waiting till then XD, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 10:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20406142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterfrogmantis/pseuds/Butterfrogmantis
Summary: Stranded alone on a beach is no way for a boat to spend New Years Eve. But with the entire island of Sodor busy at the biggest firework extravaganza ever, is there anyone around that could still help the railboat Skiff enjoy the festivities? (A character that belongs technically to Thomas The Tank Engine/TTTE has been given a random name. Also; occasional shippings are implied)





	Driftwood

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back in December but it's probably the best thing I've written - as well as being a oneshot so it's probably best to use as my first submission to this site XD Anyway, enjoy :3

There was a frost on Sodor that morning. The kind of frost that snuck underneath workers jackets and nestled itself tightly against any skin that dared to expose itself to the elements. People worked bundled up in thick jackets with fleecy interiors and hauled crates around with scarves pulled over their noses; eyes and cheeks rosy with cold. 

A thin coating of rime had stuck to metals of the engines that were out working in the snow. All morning the sounds of steamie whistles and diesel horns had broken through the quiet morning air and the clickety clack of wheels on tracks signalled the approach of trains running passengers to and from homes for the winter holiday. Holly and mistletoe adorned the sheds of every engine and vehicle alike, spreading a mutual feeling of Christmas cheer around the island. 

Since some of the workers knew they’d only have to work half the day, they went about their jobs with unusual enthusiasm, whistling carols to themselves as they hauled crates onto freight trains and dusted frost from the bunkers and tenders of the hauler. 

“Ok Donald this load is bound for” The man flipped over the thin paper “Clay pits” 

The ebony engine peeped in acknowledgement and started to haul the load along the tracks. 

“Och Donnie, dinnea be hours like ye were last time” An engine identical to Donald called from a siding where he was being loaded with trucks bound for the docks. 

“Ach, ah was nae hours last time Douglas” Donald huffed “Ah just agreed tae take on an extra job. That’s whit really useful engines do”

“Ye mean really infatuated engines” Douglas cackled “Didn’t that job involve workin’ with Bill?”

“It may have included that” the other retorted “but ah will nae be able to take on any job with him today”

“Ye’ve finally got yer smokebox out from under the mistletoe” 

“Nae, because he an’ Ben are takin’ supplies tae the docks” Donald laughed, and watched as a wide eyed Douglas chuffed down the tracks at full speed in the hopes of catching up with the number 2 clay twin. 

Over on another side of the island, the people of Arlesburgh were setting up market stalls with the left over supplies from Christmas – toys and chocolates that hadn’t been sold yet were still available but at newly discounted prices. Cries of produce being advertised and negotiations being made dominated the air whilst several small children were running about the stalls, grabbing teddies and dolls and thrusting them into the hands of unexpecting mothers and fathers.

Joseph Farrall, lighthouse keeper of Arlesburgh and runner of the railboat tours, had fallen ill. At first it was just a sniffle, then a cough. By the end of the week Joe was bedridden with the flu. He was a respected man and he’d had no shortage of well wishers and gift givers. He hoped he’d be able to haul himself onto the lighthouse in time and spirits enough to watch the New Years Eve fireworks, which were one of the talking points around Sodor that morning. 

The fat controller – Sir.Topham Hatt had been organising the biggest firework extravaganza yet in the hopes that all of the island would be able to see the display. And in theory, so long as the engines were around, they would. But not every engine was available that night. Or every boat for that matter. 

Skiff was a little Eastport pram that provided the vessel for Joe’s railboat tours, meaning he could travel both in the sea and on tracks where standard gauge engines could go. He was a chirpy happy-go-lucky little vehicle, but he lacked use in the winter months. People didn’t want to be out at sea on cold winter days, and as the temperature decreased, Skiff found himself more and more confined to rails. The rails were now the busiest areas of the island, and more and more friends came to Arlesburgh each day so Skiff didn’t mind too much ... that was until Joe fell ill. 

It had been three days since Skiff was moored in his little rail shed. There was a small crack in the door, not large enough to prevent the doors from closing, but large enough to allow a constant flow of icy air into Skiff’s shed. A thin strip of sunlight shone in through the circular window at the top of the room, hitting the floor just in front of Skiff’s chassis. In the corner was a spider web that hadn’t been in there when he’d been left, and the little railboat watched it absentmindedly, waiting for Joe’s arrival. He could hear human voices and engine horns and whistles, but his shed remained eerily quiet and his deck was cold. If boats could shiver, Skiff would. Pulling a slightly revolted face, he watched as the spider in the corner began to wrap up a fly. Suddenly, he heard the creaking of the doors, and bright sunlight flooded into his shed, causing the little Eastport pram to close his eyes tightly. 

Skiff could hear two human voices, but neither were Joe, so he blinked rapidly a few times in an attempt to see who was entering. He rather hoped it wasn’t burglars. Luckily, it wasn’t. Skiff recognised one of the men. He wore a navy jacket with an amber life vest and had a walnut brown beard to match the locks that escaped from under a sea captain’s hat. His dark brown eyes were stern but friendly in his weathered face and gave him the appearance of a well travelled sailor. This man was Captain Wilbur Kidd, part of Sodor’s human half of the Search And Rescue team. The other half of course being the vehicles, and Wilbur drove Captain; an admirable Liverpool class RNLI lifeboat, and one that had gotten Skiff himself out of a few sticky situations. But Skiff had never seen the other man that entered alongside Wilbur, and he was definitely not part of the SAR squad. This man was considerably younger, and had the gawky nature of a man not long out of adolescence and unused to his adult height. Brown eyes glittered from under an unkempt fringe of dirty blond, and he had a small scar on the left side of his chin. He was not dressed in any way that would suggest he had a particular profession – a blue t shirt and jeans, although he wore a navy blue sailor collar which implied he had some interest in nautical activity. This was probably why he was accompanying Captain Wilbur. 

“Hello Skiff, ready to be put to use in the sea again?” The fair man grinned as he began to haul the boat’s anchor back onto the deck. 

Wilbur chuckled and clapped the younger man on the back fondly. 

“Skiff, this is my nephew Andy” Wilbur crouched down on his ankles so that he was at the face height with the dinghy. “He’s not the most ... experienced sailor, but some on the job training ought to sharpen those skills” The man patted Skiff’s planks reassuringly “Plus you get to be really useful again” 

“Thank you sir, I will” Skiff beamed “Is Joe any better?”

“I believe ol’ Joe is making progress” Wilbur nodded “He should have you back by the end of the week” 

“Oh, goodie!” Skiff was smiling much more broadly by this point as Andy began to push him out of the shed into the chilly air of Arlesburgh harbour. A familiar blue tank engine chuffed down the rails, calling a greeting. At the other end a small green saddle tank was helping to push the load. Crates were stacked between their flatbeds and red rockets and catherine wheels were spilling over the sides. 

“Hey Skiff!” Thomas whistled as he passed “We’re taking this load of fireworks to the display – will you see them tonight?” 

“I hope so Thomas!” Skiff grinned.

“You’ll have one of the best views on the island” Andy exclaimed, leaping enthusiastically into Skiff’s deck “We’ll take a short cut across the island and then we can put you to work”

“What job will I be doing sir?” Skiff asked as Andy bade farewell to his uncle and began to push him down the track. 

“You’ll help cart a few children towards the main display – it’s a bit of a novelty thing for new years, but arguably more fun for them than being stuck inside coaches” 

Skiff chuckled, and agreed to do his best. The cold sea water hit him with a shock. It was certainly colder than it had been in summer, and even saltier than Skiff remembered. But it was refreshing at least, and more fun than being stuck in his dry shed so he decided to embrace it. Andy’s steering wasn’t as smooth as the boat had hoped for, but he kept an encouraging smile on his face, looking warily at the mid afternoon tides which were unusually strong for such a clear day. As they rounded Arlesburgh harbour, sailors were coming in from days or months abroad, and embracing families tightly on the gang planks of their yachts. 

As they sailed down the coast line, they saw the lights in the houses, pretty reds and greens and golds, and the Christmas trees in the windows of houses that had not been taken down yet and would likely remain up until mid January. Children laughed and shrieked as they raced along the beaches, daring each other to splash in the cold sea and getting new teddies wet and salty in the spirit of fun. Men and women strolled down the streets, shopping bags and picnic baskets in hand, and every so often Skiff and Andy caught snippets of conversations about in laws and farmer McColl’s prize turkey of the year and what a feast sir Robert Norramby had held – how did that man manage to pull it off every year? 

The winds picked up again as they crossed the south west coast of the island and Skiff wobbled precariously in the water. He’d have had no fear with Joe as his captain, but Andy was struggling to keep the little dinghy upright and Skiff wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to stay afloat. He called a few helpful tips to the man on his back, who nodded but seemed unable to act properly upon his mounts’ suggestions. A particularly strong wave sent Andy sprawling across the deck and into Skiff’s mast. He held on as the wind buffeted him backwards and over the edge of the boat. Skiff gasped and attempted to turn back around on his own, but with an inexperienced sailor and strong waves, the little dinghy was soon drifting dangerously out to sea. His eyes scanned the horizon for any sign of Andy, or anyone. The sea was deserted. Skiff bit his lip, once more scanning frantically around him for signs of help. He drifted onwards for a few hours more. 

***

Wilbur Kidd was sitting in his office when his sodden and salty nephew entered, looking disgruntled. The mariner put down his cup, looking puzzled. 

“Blown over?” 

“You know it” Andy sighed, grabbing one of the rescue towels off the siding and towelling his hair into a frenzy of fair spikes. “Lost Skiff somewhere between Wellsworth and Brendam” 

“Lost Skiff?” Wilbur blinked in alarm, rising to his feet. 

“I tried to climb back on but he’d drifted too far out!” Andy sat on the bench opposite his uncle’s desk. “I failed” 

Wilbur was a kind man and he placed a reassuring hand on the sailor’s shoulders. 

“Coincidently, you’ve come to exactly the right place. Get cleaned up and head to the festivities. I’ll handle things from here”

“S-should I tell Joe?”

“I don’t see why. We’ll find Skiff” Wilbur promised, his moustache bristling with pride “Never lost a cast away and we won’t lose one now. It wouldn’t be the first time that little dinghy’s been in trouble” Something in the captain’s dark eyes twinkled. “New year new beginnings – we’ll get Skiff back wait and see”

Andy nodded approvingly and headed off to the main building whilst Wilbur locked up his office and headed towards the large shed at the front of the rescue centre. The sleek Liverpool class was ready and waiting, but looked surprised when his driver entered the shed. 

“Got a bit of spotting to do” Wilbur patted the navy planks as he climbed behind the wheel “Andy managed to lose Skiff around Wellsworth”

“Wouldn’t be the first time that little rail boat’s been stuck” Captain mused as his driver started his engines.

“Something tells me it won’t be the last” the coastguard laughed “But you seem to have a soft spot for him none the less”

Captain was silent for a moment or two, a profound sort of aura in his expression. 

“We do our duty” The motorboat said at last before he slid gracefully down the slip away and into the chilly winter sea. 

***

Skiff had been lying on the cold damp sand for hours now. It was dark, and an icy zephyr was stinging his eyes. This was one of the reasons tears were running down his silvery face. Soggy sand stuck to his lower deck and sail, and he’d even watched a crab scuttle along his mast before it took itself down to the sea. The one thing the rowboat couldn’t do was move. Not without a captain. He hadn’t seen Andy – or anyone in fact – for hours. Joe was ill. The entire island was awaiting the firework display and wouldn’t find him for hours. Actually it was worse than that – the tide would reach him before the people and then Skiff truly would be lost at sea. Another tear rolled off the end of his nose and made a little imprint in the sand. 

Skiff had had a rather exciting life for a boat. He’d scanned the circumference of the island for many years with his ex-captain (a cantankerous pirate by the name of Sailor John) taken the fat controller on a hunt for a mermaid, and saved some of his great western friends from a tree. That was only half of it. If Skiff was to drift aimlessly out to the open ocean, it wouldn’t be his most dangerous experience. Perhaps just his loneliest. No matter where Skiff had been, whether it was with pirates, tank engines or lighthouse keepers, Skiff had relied on at least someone to be around. 

A resounding boom sounded somewhere in the distance and the sand under Skiff’s face turned pink for a few moments. Ah. There were the fireworks. And Skiff would miss every single one stuck on this beach. The little sailboat would even have been grateful to hear Daisy’s bragging if it meant being a little less lonely. Heck he’d even listen to John’s berating once more if – 

HHHNRK HNRK 

Skiff glanced behind him to see a familiar shape drifting through the waters towards the beach. It was a boat, motor powered and a good few meters longer than the Eastport Pram. But Skiff knew the friendly face at the front of the engine compartment, and he had never felt more indebted to see it. 

“Hey Skiff” the lifeboat whispered “How did you get in this mess?”

“I was blown about a bit on my side until I eventually just kind of ... washed up” Skiff sighed, glancing at the sand as another firework turned it blue for a second. 

“Oh my ... we’ll haul you back” 

“Don’t you want to see the New Years Eve fireworks?” Skiff asked.

“Friends over festivities” Captain said firmly as Wilbur tied a rope between the two boats and began to push the Eastport pram towards the sea. “Now you can enjoy the display”

“But all of my friends went up to the fireworks” Skiff frowned, musing aloud whilst Captain’s driver began to dust sand off of his face and planks. “And since they’ve started I won’t be able to be really useful! I may as well have stayed in that shed for today” the sailboat sighed sadly as he was finally pushed back into the water, toppling over a bit so that his mast was leaning on Captain’s port side hull. 

“You can see them from here” Captain glanced up as a shower of green sparks illuminated the sky, his face and bow. 

“T-true” Skiff blushed as he realised he’d been somewhat tactless. “And uh, you’re here to watch them with me” 

Captain’s lips twitched briefly as he was reboarded by Wilbur, who gave a push to the mast of Skiff, and finally set the little sailboat upright again. He bobbed a few times in the calm tide, and was finally stable at last. Several more sparks shot up into the sky, and this time Skiff’s eyes filled with wonder - not salt water, sand or tears. It was the most at peace he had felt all day, and the dinghy knew it was the start of a new year too, which would bring more fun and joy to the island of Sodor. Skiff noticed the boat next to him did not have the same festive expression. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing much only that ... you should have been at the festival tonight” Captain glanced at his reflection in the dark water “There’s quite a spectacle in a railboat, I’m pretty sure your presence will be missed” 

“I’m sure yours will be too if you stay here too long”

Captain’s eyebrows furrowed together.

“The rail and the road vehicles could all attend and Harold could fly. Whether I wanted to visit or not I was going to be stuck along the coastline” He took a deep breath and smiled, but it was too wide “This is the best seat in the house, well, ocean” 

The sail boat looked up at him, sympathising a little more. Andy had been right – there really was a novelty in a boat on rails. Skiff had never really thought about being confined only to one terrain – especially not the sea. Captain’s only time out of the water was in his shed or on the chassis. Day in, day out, there was a lot of sights the lifeboat could not possibly see. Skiff made himself a mental note to count himself privileged for a taste of both lives. 

“Do you feel ... trapped?” Skiff‘s large eyes blinked up at the bigger boat.

“Not really, I mean I have the other half of life. I can go where many vehicles can’t but it feels so ... aimless. I’m grateful for what I can do, but” He glanced up again as the sky became a curtain of golden sparks “Those fireworks up there. Every other engine on the island is significantly closer to them. Yet we can all see it, it makes you think how vast the world really is and how little an engine can explore it”

The lifeboat caught side of his friend’s puzzled face, and his own fell into a look of regret. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get so philosophical. I spend a lot of time alone in my shed, makes a boat think. Just yourself in a vast ocean of thoughts, makes you feel like ... like driftwood” 

“Well, I was literally just driftwood and-” Skiff thought about it a bit more. He had done the same lying there on the beach. Captain was right; driftwood really was just being alone with your thoughts. Perhaps, for the first time, Skiff truly understood. He stared at the ocean again as yet more sparks lit it up. And then he continued staring. 

“Captain look” 

“Hm?”

The sailboat was grinning excitedly at the water. 

“You said every other engine would be closer to the fireworks tonight, and perhaps physically you’re right but watch the water”

Captain did as the railboat suggested. More fireworks went off above them, and Captain saw them reflecting on the ocean waves, and then looked at the beaming face of his friend, slightly puzzled. 

“You can see them in the water” Skiff was still grinning “That’s closer to you than any engine will ever see”

“What are you saying?” The lifeboat raised an eyebrow, not following.

“I’m saying sometimes if you look at things from another perspective, you’ll find yourself closer to your goal than you think” The sailboat beamed up, and Captain finally understood.

“The driftwood sees more skies than the bird in his nest” 

Skiff nodded. 

“Then perhaps it is not such a bad thing after all” Captain smiled sincerely at last.

The grand finale boomed high above the island, filling the sky with a multitude of neon sparkles before fizzling into darkness. The two boats bobbed calmly on the surface, watching the last tendrils of gold fall from the sky like meteors. 

“Happy new year Captain” 

“Happy new year Skiffer”

“Skiffer?” Concealed by the darkness, the sailboat’s cheeks flushed slightly.

“It just sounds right” The lifeboat also blushed “I’ve heard a lot of people change people’s names”

“Andy is short for Andrew for example” Wilbur rapped one of his boat’s handrails “Now what say we all get home and warm?”

“It won’t be that warm in that dry shed with the crack in the door – and Joe’s still ill” Skiff sighed “I won’t even be able to say happy new years to him” 

“Every day after today is new years!” Wilbur chuckled “Any day counts”

“I suppose” Skiff’s voice dropped a little and his smile wavered. 

“Would you like to share my shed for the night Skiffer?”

“Oh! I –”

“J-just because you said yours was cold, and it’s our duty to look after those we protect s-so-”

“Captain” The sailboat giggled “Duty’s fine but goodwill is better”

The Liverpool class muttered something under his breath. 

“Hm?”

“People have a word for it but ... I’m not sure engines do”

Skiff smirked and whispered something above the waves. 

“Close enough?” He blinked innocently. 

The lifeboat blinked a few times, making an incoherent sound. Then, slowly, he grinned. 

“As close as the fireworks on water” 

The two boats laughed as Wilbur steered them back to the rescue centre. People were calling happy New Year’s eves all over the island to their families and friends. Donald and Douglas chuffed down a line next to the coast singing a verse of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ to welcome the New Year. Captain was busy concentrating on his steering, but Skiff who was being towed behind noticed both Scots had a yellow ribbon wrapped around their funnels. No doubt a New Year’s gift from the china clay twins. People certainly had a word for that alright. 

The other rescue vehicles were already asleep in their sheds by the time Captain whirred in, and didn’t even wake as two boats were hauled onto the slipaway. Captain remained on his chassis whilst Skiff leant against one of the walls for the night until it was light enough for him to return to Arlesburgh. Both bade a finally happy new year to Wilbur, and to Andy who had come to see that Skiff returned undamaged. 

“Goodnight Skiffer” Captain peered through a slit in one eye before falling asleep. 

And then at last, it was silent again. But not the stranded on a damp beach silence. A silence filled with promise. Hope. And perhaps many other of the emotions humans liked to express. Skiff smiled to himself as he closed his eyes and slept soundly for the first time in days. He found himself drifting off into a dream about being on top of a piece of wood bobbing on a wide open ocean. But the sailboat was not afraid. Driftwood was quite safe in his dream, whilst he was tucked up safely close to the lifeboat that had taught him that. Skiff felt the cosy blanket of New Year’s spirit over him, and the shed was warm as well.


End file.
